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Straight white man working in shitty dead-end job keenly aware of his privilege

A CISHET white British man who works on a chicken farm is, like Harry Styles, fully aware of the winning hand life has dealt him.

Bill McKay of Lincolnshire, who deals with feeding and shovelling shit, is humbly going about his low-paid, low-status job acutely conscious of the immense and bountiful privileges the patriarchy has gifted him.

He said: “Sometimes the squawking gets you down, but then I remember I’m a Caucasian male sexually attracted to women. I’ve won life’s golden ticket.

“I can’t be concerned about minimum wage when there’s a gender pay gap. When one of the birds that’s still got a beak goes for my eyes, it kind of feels like karma.

“It makes my browbeaten, penniless existence easier, knowing it will smash the glass ceiling in chicken farming. If I’m here, that means more room higher-up for women and that’s got to be a good thing.

“At the minute they barely hang around for a few months before moving onto something that pays more. We need to do better.”

Friend Donna Sherridan said: “As a straight white guy, Bill’s playing life with the cheat codes on. God help him if he weren’t.”

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Are your loved ones part of the secret Remainer plot to unravel Brexit?

THEIR secret summit proves it: Remainers are plotting to reverse Brexit, and their agents walk among us. Your boss? Your best friend? Your wife? Expose the traitors: 

Your MP

Are they a member of one of the parties at the summit? Or worse, a Lib Dem? Then they’re part of it. These saboteurs dynamiting the foundation of democracy itself have declared themselves enemies of the people. Only the Reform Party, formerly Nige and the Anti-Lockdown Massive, formerly UKIP, can be trusted.

Your employer

Hearing unpatriotic whining about ‘staff shortages’ or ‘falling turnover’ or ‘export costs’? That’s seditious talk. Brexit is perfect therefore its economic effects are perfect therefore any complaining about it is counter-revolutionary. The business should be requisitioned and handed over to believers like yourself.

Your husband

‘There’s nothing on the bloody shelves in Sainsbury’s,’ he says, in the slip that proves he’s one of them. ‘And the prices!’ he continues, giving it all away. Why knock our Europe-beating inflation if Brussels’s nanobots aren’t controlling his brainstem? Regretfully, you heft a spade and prepare to strike.

Your dog

Taking Churchill for a walk, you’re whistling Land of Hope and Glory as you pass the council estate to let them know you’re on side with the proletarian revolution. Then he lets loose with a massive loose bowel movement and you step in it. My God. They’ve even taken control of our pets.

Jeremy Clarkson

No man represents all that is Great about Britain like Clarkson, but this farm show? His ceaseless carping about agriculture not being helped by Brexit, when the multi-national farms are collectively groaning with produce and alive with song? They’ve got to him. Probably through a woman.

Yourself

How, you wonder, staring in the mirror, can you be sure they haven’t got to you? That the so-called vaccine isn’t lying dormant, ready for 5G activation? When you have thoughts like ‘well it’s really not made much difference’ and ‘even Gove’s changed his mind’? Face it. This is down to you.

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